Sugar, We're Going Down
by Evanna Adams
Summary: Set in the 2014!verse. Castiel finding solace in Dean's arms. Bondage, slight domination/submission. Written for whatsanapocalae on tumblr.


**This is for whatsanapocalae . tumblr . com. It's angsty. VERY ANGSTY. Also, it has bondage and domination/submission. So those are my warning. Hope you like it, thanks. **

* * *

It wasn't hard these days. Life had always given them reasons to put themselves down… To give up but never had it been this easy. Felt this easy. Did he do it? Of course not. The sound of his father's disapproval and disappointment rang clearly in his head whenever he looked at a gun for too long. Hell, he had even held it to his head once but that damned fallen angel had made it in time to stop him. He had gently pulled the gun out of his hand. Throwing it to a side, he had pulled Dean into his lap and held his trembling figure.

Realizing that this was being weak, Dean was about to push Castiel away when he kissed Dean. If there was one thing this new world lacked, it was the fear of long distance future because there wasn't going to be any. Also, the fear of social etiquettes. There wasn't a social life anymore, not that Dean had had one before.

And so, they had fallen into each other's arms looking for the warmth that they lacked, looking for companionship they had long forgotten. Soon, they were on Dean's bed doing something that had been building since the day Castiel had laid eyes upon Dean.

Sweetness was replaced with desperation and delicateness with roughness. Castiel hadn't stayed for long after that. Waiting for strength to return to his legs, he had dressed and left.

They didn't talk about it. They just promised to find each other when it got too much. It wasn't a relationship. It was a contract. Contract to be there for each other when another could not understand what they required.

It was a good day. Dean, along with Chris, Rick, and Fallon, had rounded up fifteen Croats. He returned happy, sharing a rare beer with the four. These days, weed growing in their backyards was more abundant than beer.

"Hey, Cas," he called, poking his head through the bead curtain.

"Castiel has gone Chuck to get an inventory of the items we need," said a voice from behind him.

Dean turned around and came face to face, more like nose to nose, with René, his next door neighbor. The camp had its couples, its orgy-crazed people, drifters, and desperates (as Castiel called them). But no one knew about Dean and Castiel. They all assumed that the two were like brothers, like Castiel had taken… his place. It would have to be partly because Dean and Castiel usually had relations with a woman and partly because nobody really cared anymore. Dean had his doubts that Chuck knew what happened behind closed doors, either it was his prophet mind, though he claimed he hadn't had any visions in a long time not since…, or he was just perspective about this stuff.

"Hey, Rene," Dean said with a smirk.

He liked to play them even when he didn't want them. Right now, he really needed Castiel. He wanted to tell him about the fifteen Croats. Also, he needed some weed to celebrate. He rarely ever smoked weed, but times were changing. He could be dead the next day and he was already damned, so what the hell.

"Hi, Dean. I heard about Risa," she crooned, putting her palms on his broad shoulders.

"Risa?" he said, a frown crossing his face.

"You were always the funny one," she said with a fake laugh.

"I've been known for better things, darlin'," he said, a cocky grin in place. "Anyway, I really need to find Cas. Need some of his home grown," he said, gently prying her off of himself.

She huffed a sigh, rolling her eyes.

"Life's short, Dean. Call me," she said, bending in to kiss him on the lips and then walking away, swaying her hips.

Dean shook his head and went through the camp, asking around for Castiel. The answers were usually, he went 'that' way. In the end, Dean had went around the whole camp thrice and visited Castiel's house five times to no effect.

Returning back home, Dean settled into his bed, sighing. He was tired now. Physical labor did not bother him… It was the mental situation he was in. He distracted himself but he never forgot. How could he… It was his brother. His blood. He really needed the weed. He needed the focus, the confidence. He had a few bottles of whiskey in his freezer but he was saving them, for what, he wasn't sure.

He could drink the cheap beer he had… Instead, he decided he'd sleep. It wouldn't come easy, it never did but he guessed he could try.

He knew it was a dream, he knew it because he hadn't been there. If he had been, he would have stopped him. Hell, he would have killed him if that's what was required. Not this. Not his brother as the puppet of the Devil. He could see his brother. The Satan wearing Nick torturing him, torturing everyone he knew, torturing the image of Dean, until he uttered the syllable which he did. He always did.

And then heard the door open, it was quiet and the scuffing of shoes against the flimsy doormat Castiel had placed there as a joke. Nobody used that doormat except Castiel.

Dean blamed it on his hunter's instinct that he heard this at all. Then the person was walking, not the careful walk of an assassin but the tip-toe of someone not wanting to disturb, at least not really. He felt the warm breath against his face and the cool of the metal closing around his wrists.

"Cas… Wha-" he started, grumpily.

"Shh!"

Dean realized a second too late that his wrists had been handcuffed to the sides of the bed-head. He woke with a start.

"Cas?" he asked, through the dark. He had been sleeping for a while, he realized.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw Castiel stripping off his clothes, unceremoniously. He looked up to his face. It was tear-streaked and blotched. He gritted his teeth. Castiel needed him.

Instead of climbing over him, the naked Castiel, sat down in a chair, splaying his legs. He mounted his feet on the bed everything on display. Something shone in hand, it was a tube. Castiel took out a large amount of lube onto his palm and started gruffly inserting his digits into his hole. He was arching his back and moaning. Dean was hard just by that. But there was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wished…

Satisfied, Castiel pulled out his fingers and got up. He stood beside Dean, taking off his clothes with care, his fingers trembling. Dean wanted nothing more than to take Castiel's fingers into his own and kiss them; kiss him and tell him that it would be alright, even though it would be a lie. But just for one night. For one night, it could be the truth.

Dean's clothes joined the mess of Castiel's clothes on the floor and Castiel was finally on him. He sat back on his knees, around Dean's thighs looking as innocent as ever. He ran his hands down the sides of Dean's stomach and stopped at his hipbones.

"Cas?" he whispered.

And just with that, Castiel's mouth was on him, wet heat and desperate, all innocence lost in need. Dean wanted to cry out. Why was this, their destiny? Why couldn't they be in a normal world where Sam was married to a girl and Dean and Castiel could finally be together for real?

He started to rut his hips against Dean's, earning a gasp from Dean. He cupped Dean's face with both hands and continued to kiss him. Dean tried to look at him but he had his eyes screwed close as if Dean would read them, which he probably would. Dean wanted to touch him so bad but his hands were tied, literally.

Castiel's fingers were digging into Dean's skull and he was moaning into Dean's mouth. Dean tried pulling away; turning his face but Castiel's hold around his face was strong.

"Cas?" he mumbled into a kiss but Castiel just ignored him.

He started to move down, nipping and sucking at Dean's throat and neck.

"Cas, let me go, please. You can still do anything you want, Cas," Dean said, calmly, between groans and moans.

Every plea he made was ignored. Castiel was moving in a way that Dean couldn't look him in the eyes, as if Dean seeing would mean he'd fall apart. He was turning around now. Leaning on his knees again around Dean's thighs, just this time he was facing the other way.

Castiel put his hand around Dean's cock and lined it with his hole. Slowly, he started to sink down on it, gasping. His back arched and he let out a long moan until the whole of Dean's cock was sheathed into him. Dean could see sweat gleaming on Castiel's back and the anti-possession ward in stark contrast against his pale skin.

Waiting for a few seconds, Castiel started to move up and down in small rough motions, hitting his prostate over and over. He cried out Dean's name and his hands clamped down on Dean's ass. Dean was gasping now, calling out to Castiel. It was rough, intense and heated. It was their way of doing it. Their way of finding release. Not that it lasted long.

Dean's hand pushed against the metal, tightening it, his back arched and with Castiel's name on his lips he was coming. Castiel fell back onto Dean's chest, panting, his head on Dean's chest. It was then Dean noticed the silver band around Castiel's cock.

"Cas," he started again.

Yet again, he was ignored, as Castiel got up and pulled away from Dean. He turned around again and the band was gone. He crawled towards Dean, looking anywhere but at Dean. He put his knees around Dean's face, his meaning clear. Dean wasn't the one to refuse. He took the head into his mouth and sucked on it. The precum was already forming. Castiel's head arched back and he gasped. His hands found Dean's hair.

Dean wanted Castiel to enjoy it so he took it slow. Swallowing him, little by little, sucking and twirling his tongue. Castiel's fingers started to drag over Dean's arms, making him shiver. They travelled up to entwine with Dean's fingers. Dean held his hands as though anchoring Castiel down, though there was no chance of him flying anymore…

Castiel held back on fucking Dean's mouth. He moaned at every twirl of Dean's tongue and gasped at every suck. He started to tremble now and Dean knew he was close. Castiel still wouldn't meet his eyes, though. Castiel started to pant, moving a little now. He was trying to pull out but Dean held on lightly with his teeth. Castiel stayed and then he was coming, pumping out into Dean's mouth. He pulled away now, a little of the cum painting Dean's face but at least not choking him.

As though electrocuted, Castiel got off the bed, stumbling.

Swallowing, Dean cried out, "Don't you dare leave me here, you son of a bitch. Untie me."

Castiel still didn't reply. He was picking up his pants from the floor. They were the old ones. The ones that Jimmy had worn that fateful night. Castiel only wore those when he missed being an angel. Dean's breath hitched.

"Cas, please. Don't leave me here. You know I make it out of these. I'll beat your scrawny ass if you don't," Dean babbled on and stopped only when he saw Castiel pull out silver keys from the pocket.

Castiel untied him, focusing on the lock. He dropped the keys on the floor and sat down weakly on the side of the bed. Rubbing his wrists, Dean stared at Castiel's bare back.

"Cas?" he whispered, again.

"Dean," he finally croaked.

"What's wrong?"

Castiel huffed out a laugh.

"Okay, stupid question but why won't you look at me?"

"Because you're the reason I fell."

Silence. Dean knew it was true but he didn't need that kind of accusations. He hadn't pushed him, surely. Had he...?

"I am not blaming you, Dean," Castiel said, reading the silence. "I would do the same, over. But why am I here, Dean? I'm weak. I am of no use. I'm just human. A poor example of even that."

He laughed dryly.

Dean pulled him, roughly, to make him look into his eyes. He saw white at Castiel's words.

"Listen to me, you son of a bitch. You have been the only reason I'm here. Get that? You're the only one I can talk to here. You're the only one who knows. And you're also the smartest person here. You've helped us a lot, Cas. So don't you dare, _don't you dare_, call yourself useless," Dean growled, holding Cas' face in his hands.

Dean pulled him by his shoulders to bed. Castiel followed, falling into place on Dean's shoulder and in a fetal position. Dean pulled him closer and kissed his forehead. It was weird, this cuddling, this comfort in each other's arm but they never denied it. Life was too short to not cuddle when they still could.

* * *

**Please review. I'll give you bits of my soul this time... Just kidding, they'll be bits of my neighbor's soul. I know I'm not funny. ^_^**


End file.
